


Alphabet Soup

by skyfiery



Category: Batman Beyond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyfiery/pseuds/skyfiery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A grumpy old man. A young man in a suit. Alphabet soup in the dead of winter. One shot vignette. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alphabet Soup

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t remember which issue of Nightwing it was where there was a scene showing Nightwing and Robin on a rooftop in the dead of winter, each holding a thermos of hot soup or drink. But that scene kind of inspired this fic.

 

**Alphabet soup**

 

_Winter is here_ , Bruce thought as he walked out from Archie Goodwin International Airport, feeling the heavy flakes of snow settle on his shoulders and hair. He paused a minute to raise his face, squinting at the falling snow hiding the setting sun, before giving a short grunt at himself.

 

He was getting redundant in his old age, telling himself the obvious. But ever since he had retired as Batman some two decades ago, that was partly how he had kept his mind sharp. A small part, to be sure, but it still annoyed him to no end.

 

The larger part came from him still keeping himself up to date with major crime cases around the world and solving a number of them simply by putting clues together from behind the Batcomputer. Of course, those major institutions such as Interpol, CIA and the FBI had no idea where the proof had come from to help them solve their cases (save for Barbara, whom he tried not to interfere with).

 

Bruce shook himself, flagging a cab down and climbing in. He hadn’t known when he would be back from this business trip to Hong Kong, and had opted not to let Terry waste his time by waiting at the airport.

 

“Wayne Manor,” he said curtly, and the cab pulled away smoothly from the curb.

 

_The dead of winter_ , he thought to himself again. He wondered if there was food in the manor. He wondered if Terry would be cold like he was now, and all those years ago.

 

“Change of plans. Take me to Amusement Mile. I’ll direct you. Wait for me there while I buy some things.”

 

“Yessir,” the driver said, casting a glance in the mirror at the man who spoke with such a cold tone. He wondered if he would get a tip out of this.

 

* * *

 

Terry entered the Batcave to find Bruce already at the computer. Ace barked a greeting at him as he hurried down the steps.

 

“Hey, you’re back early. Everything okay?”

 

Bruce barely glanced at him, but just gave a short nod. “I just heard a report come in that the Jokerz are out causing trouble with the Ts. _Again_.” That word was gritted out. They had better things to take care of than two long-time rival gangs always going at each other’s throats, but it seemed that others would always replace anyone they took down. “Suit up.”

 

Terry sighed inwardly and turned to the case which held the suit. Not even a _hello_ and he was sent out again. “Yessir.”

 

Bruce watched the Batmobile glide silently out of the cave, and couldn’t help the small smile which tugged at his lips. “No, I’m not getting soft,” he said to Ace, who chuffed at him.

 

* * *

 

Terry was halfway across Gotham, headed towards the location fed into the car’s computer, when he leaned back to relax for a moment. The snow was falling too heavily to rely on manual driving, and it was much safer to rely on auto-pilot for the moment.

 

His arm brushed against something which wasn’t usually there, sending it rocking for a moment and jolting him upright again.

 

He stared suspiciously at it, a brow raised, then reached for it to tug it out of its place. “A thermos?”

 

Maybe he was getting way too paranoid in his old age, if a mere thermos could make him so wary. But he had been Batman for over four years, and these years had made him nothing if not cautious, what with Inque having penetrated the cave’s security before by hiding in the car, and Robert Vance infiltrating the cave through his suit.

 

No, he was not too paranoid.

 

Terry warily unscrewed the thermos, expecting something to come attacking him.

 

The only thing which did was the warm smell of hot soup tickling his nose. He peered into the flask and sloshed the contents about a bit, before grinning and pulling his mask partway. Even at top speed, the Batmobile was going to take another seven minutes to reach the Jokerz and the Ts.

 

“Schway.”

 

* * *

 

Bruce had taken the following day to settle into his usual routine. He was still adaptable, but growing older had made him less so. Grumbling at himself, he nodded at the man working at Wayne-Powers who hailed a cab for him. He had gotten Terry to drive him to the company in the evening to check on some files, but had told the younger man to head back to suit up and continue patrolling.

 

 

The ride to the manor took about thirty minutes, and the snow was falling even more heavily by then. He wished that criminals had the sense of mind to stay home and take shelter from the cold, but crime never sleeps. In some dark alley or some dark corner, a robbery might be taking place which Batman could have stopped.

 

He allowed himself a small sigh as the cab pulled up the driveway and he paid the fare.

 

Ace barked as he entered, and Bruce rubbed the doberman’s head for a moment, feeling grateful for the company. He headed downwards to the cave, to connect to the Batmobile and find out the status of the night.

 

When he reached the computer, he stopped for a moment before dropping into the chair and reaching for the thermos left prominently on the console. It was the same flask he had used the night before to put in the Batmobile.

 

Bruce hesitated, then unscrewed the cap, half-stunned. He had not had anyone cook for him for the past forty years, when Alfred had passed on and the rest had left the fight one by one. With more hesitation from years of solitude, he took a sip of the soup, tasting the texture of it.

 

He sloshed the flask around, and smirked at the alphabet bits and carrot and potato chunks, then finally smiled and glanced over to Ace who was looking at him, his ears twitching back and forth. “No, I’m still not getting soft.”

 

Ace only chuffed in return.

 

~fin

 


End file.
